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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29838675">Eclipse</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ozma/pseuds/Ozma'>Ozma</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Final Fantasy XIV</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Other</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 22:02:02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,939</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29838675</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ozma/pseuds/Ozma</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>post-5.3, Void quest spoilers. A series of one-shots, not necessarily in chronological order.</p><p>A happy, slice of life AU where Elidibus, the Warrior of Light, their adopted son Unukalhai, and their pet Ancient One are a family on the First.  Challenged by their past and present, they grow into new people - together.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Elidibus/Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>30</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. A Promise</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is really just a series of commissions I've written for Orlais.  Some of these fics were originally posted in my one shot collections, but there's enough of them now that they deserve their own collection.</p>
    </blockquote><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The Warrior of Light and Unukalhai participate in a festival - their first without <i>him.</i></p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Be it through tradition or respect, the Crystal Tower remains unadorned throughout the festivities.  A lone spire that reaches the heavens, all but communing with the stars themselves, its majesty is centerpiece to the celebration, a testament to the resilience of mankind.</p><p>The ease with which Unukalhai takes to the Crystarium belies his lonely history; at least outwardly, he adapts well to the bustle, easily navigating the intricate maze of crowd and stall, interrupted only by the occasional citizen calling out to him with a festive greeting and smile.</p><p>"You've chosen a color that's quite seasonal." Though a light tease, a joke specific to those having once resided on the Source, his cheeks nonetheless flush in embarrassment.</p><p>"It matches." He defends, motioning to his hair – even if the color was not wholly his choice.</p><p>Your agreement is accompanied by light laughter.  "That it does." </p><p>With practiced patience, a trait quickly learned by every adventurer, Unukalhai greets those he passes.  The wall he keeps between himself and the Crystarium's citizenry is thick, not entirely unlike how he once distanced himself from the Scions; his is a fair choice, and a position you oft take as well, for this world is neither yours nor his.</p><p>Nay, <em>his </em>world has been gone for a very long time, his sole purpose now its restoration.  "Are you lonely?"</p><p>"Everyone treats me well." It is to you, this time, that he offers feigned reassuring smile.  He was not like this before; on the Source, he was awkward, easily flustered and quick to reveal his emotions.  That he became so adept at hiding his troubles quickly puts into question how many others have fussed over him since his arrival.  "I could not ask for better companions."</p><p>"That is not what I asked." His is a practiced evasion, vague enough to do credit to the master he once served - but Elidibus is gone now, and Unukalhai has remained alone for far too long.  Though Unukalhai once confided how deeply his emotions conflict, before leaving, he has not since and you cannot but worry that you've left him alone while he remains unstable - he's yet young, despite his experience and lofty goals.</p><p>"Would that you visited more often."  He at last admits as you reach the center of the Musica Universalis.  Rows of large tables and stalls are decorated for the festival, each bearing various gifts, attire, and foods that are presented in a multitude of styles, prepared to account for the wide variety of peoples inhabiting the Crystarium.  "B-but don't worry, I know you're busy."</p><p>"No, you're right." You <em>must </em>do better; entrenched though you might find yourself in politics, you've responsibility for Unukalhai's well-being.  After all, you're the one who . . ."Today is your day.  Where do you want to go?"</p><p>Midst the sweets and bustle, black and violet tapestries cover stall and wall both, each adorned by delicate glass balls of gold that emulate stars, painted by the most skilled hands in the Mean; larger baubles shaped as various phases of the moon reflect the city's lights, their dance flickering across wall and floor both.  All of this is accompanied by the scent of supper and treats, merging until indistinguishable, released into the air as an overall spice that reminds participants simply of <em>festivals</em>.</p><p>And <em>wha</em>t a festival; though the Exarch's former presence might have some influence on its timing, this celebration is mostly the First's own. Not belonging to any singular culture, but all those that survived the flood, the event merges into a unified celebration of gratitude for continued life and the restoration of the night.</p><p>"Anywhere." You urge gently.</p><p>Despite the smiling faces and life around him, even with you at his side intent on making the day pleasant and memorable, Unukalhai seems hesitant.  You'll not relent to his vague evasions so easily and it takes little time for Unukalhai to recognize the impenetrability of his companion's will. At last he chooses his words with care. "I helped prepare the group dining area. . .there were some foods I wanted to try."</p><p>With a smile, you pat him on the back, motioning for him to lead the way – not that he needs lead far. Even from halfway across the Crystarium you'd recognize your destination.</p><p>The Mean must have worked for moons to produce the necessary food.  Your warm smile turns wry; with so many mouths to feed, it must have been a boon to have all those eager fledgling adventurers looking for easy work.  They would have been ideal for aiding in resource procurement and, at one time, you might have joined them.</p><p>Then Elidibus, too, must be thanked for this meal.</p><p>Chaos reigns as you approach supper's bustle, hungry bodies eagerly clamoring for overstuffed meals.  Whispers in such large numbers turn to nigh roars, and yet even with such a sensory explosion of vibrant scents, sounds, and sights, the Crystarium cannot be described as aught but peaceful.</p><p>The journey through the line is uneventful and with dishes in hand you and Unukalhai find a place near the designated seating area's edge; you are not wont to frequent conversation with strangers, and nor does Unukalhai seem to be.  Such a position grants a perfect view for observation – that you might witness the happiness so desperately struggled for.  The Crystarium, at least for now, is free of woe, and your breast wells with satisfaction's contentment.</p><p>Such cannot be said of Unukalhai.  Your young companion fidgets between bites, his gaze darting about, as if searching for something beyond your ken.</p><p>Even in times of peace, he remains driven and devoted to his cause – not entirely unlike you -</p><p>Not unlike -</p><p>Even as you repeatedly deny the truth of matters, the thought of just <em>who </em>Unukalhai's behavior mirrors continues intruding on the forefront of your mind.  Devotion is ever the fate of the Warriors of Light, it seems.</p><p>Careful observation reveals his thoughts, even if words do not: Unukalhai eyes the Crystal Tower.  Though subtle in his intent, it is not enough; hidden behind a mask for so long, practiced though he might be, Unukalhai remains unused to having his emotions exposed.</p><p>He must have overheard the details of that day from the locals.</p><p>You breathe deeply, once, twice, thrice, quickly reaching a decision: the events of that day are not conversation you are intent on having during a celebration.</p><p>To his credit, Unukalhai chooses not to push, focusing instead on his food by firmly locking his gaze on the various festivity decorations scattered through the halls.</p><p>With the bright lights of the city, it is hard to tell quite when night falls, but once it does, the city <em>awakens.</em>  Unadorned, simple buildings all but glow under the festival's décor, colorful lights adorning eaves, windows, and rooftops, flickering and cycling as if walking the stars themselves.  </p><p>"We all worked together to make this festival a success.  And now, the rest of the time should be spent together, with your loved ones." In the distance, Katla speaks to the crowd, announcing the festival's success with pride to applause at both individually gentle and thundering in unity.</p><p>And still Unukalhai holds his silence, but his gaze is quite clearly downcast.  "Did you want to go see Taynor?" As fool question as any and, unsurprisingly, he shakes his head, at last returning his gaze to the tower.  It takes but few words to shatter your heart:</p><p>"They say. . .there was a great battle there.  That Warrior of Light and Darkness clashed." Up and up, he observes the tower's Crystalline nooks, knowing only tales of his master's end.  "That the very tower itself saved us all."</p><p>It is your turn to look away.</p><p>"It is. . .disconcerting, that such a weapon watches over me.  Even though I know what he intended, still I. . ."  Knowing only despair and duty, when confronted with emotion, Unukalhai seems so very lost.  You cannot stand see it – not again.</p><p>"He fought for the future.  For him, we must strive to create the best world - worlds - we can." Easily spoken platitudes do little to soothe the yet raw wounds in either of your hearts and to Unukalhai they have the opposite effect.</p><p>You promised him <em>anything</em>, yet his true desires are impossible, even for the famed <em>Warrior of Light and Darkness</em>.</p><p>The Shepherd to the Stars.</p><p>Perhaps -</p><p>"I might be able to -" You hesitate, not wanting to make false promises.  But if you can summon form from the Lifestream, then it's possible the skill can act in the reverse. "There might be a way we can share our thoughts with him, just this once."</p><p>Rapidly shifting expressions reveal his turmoil: Unukalhai's eyes widen, then empty with confusion, before finally hardening as he sets his jaw firm.</p><p>"This isn't an appropriate time for jest.  How could such a thing even be possible?"</p><p>"I'm quite serious.  It is an. . .old skill.  I cannot guarantee it will reach him, for he must accept it as well, but I will send it on the journey."</p><p>Even after the explanation, Unukalhai remains cautious, understandably so; such a claim defies reasonable belief.</p><p>If he does not believe. . .then you will grant the miracle fate denied him.</p><p>Taking Unukalhais's hand, you pull him up from his seat, leaving unfinished supper for later as you lead him towards glowing crystal; far from the revelers, from the lights and decorations, you embrace the shadows, that none might interfere.  You'd sooner not explain the use of unknown sorceries in a public place – nor their intent.</p><p>So suspicious is your course that even Unukalhai eyes with wariness. Yet still he trusts, his belief in you and his master unfaltering.</p><p>"Put your hand on the tower and wish with all your heart – let your master know what words did not."</p><p>He does not move; whether out of fear of failure – or fear of success – or perhaps still not quite believing it's within your power, Unukalhai hesitates.</p><p>"Don't worry." You speak low, taking his hand once more, lifting it to the tower's cold walls.  Resting yours atop his, you hold the familiar amber crystal close to your own breast with your free hand.  This time, it is mere comforting show, the magicks as natural as any you've ever known, the memories since settled and indistinguishable from yours.</p><p>As the glow of ancient magicks builds at your feet, its light nigh blinds, piercing darkness's shroud.  Unukalhai gasps, fumbling awkwardly for words and finding none, each attempted sentence disjointed.</p><p>"Concentrate, Unukalhai." You scold more firmly than intended, but the magicks are not intended to be used as such and you are no Ancient.  While altering them, you cannot afford distraction.</p><p>After all, you want this, too.</p><p>From head to toe, your seat's magicks drain life-giving aether, coursing your arm in transfer; you are a beacon, a light within the dark - or the dark within the light – and into the Underworld's – the Lifestream's - flow, you release your will and Unukalhai's.</p><p>Though endless and cyclic, eventually your thoughts will find him, even if it takes until the end of time.  He will know how much you loved him –</p><p>How much you miss him –</p><p>-and how much you want him back.</p><p>Because he knows, he <em>remembers</em> now, because the world he protected is so beautiful and  -</p><p>Releasing the spell before emotion overwhelms rationality, the magicks dissipate, golden particles floating through the shadow as you collapse against the tower, head spinning and muscles burning, drained of strength.</p><p>At your side, Unukalhai gasps; through blurred, unsteady vision, you attempt to follow his gaze, fumbling for words that might appease the inevitable guard -  </p><p>But rather than golds and reds, all that stands out within the shadows is <em>white</em>.</p><p>You inhale sharply enough that your lungs burn.</p><p>Elidibus stands alone, in silent observation – but not over you; he instead focuses on the star around him, letting the winds tease at the hem of his robes, the chill flicking through his hood – seeing for the first time in millennia the world through eyes not hardened wholly by despair and duty.</p><p>The star he, as did all the others, once loved too.</p><p>"Your attire. . ." As fool first question though it might be – the<em> how</em> of his arrival is at least understandable, if not intended - yours is an otherwise reasonable query; he shapes his flesh as the mortal one you knew, unlike Hades, who heeded your call in truth.</p><p>"Is this not what you sought?" Elidibus scolds lightly, but his heart is not in it.  Nor is he wrong.  "Though I find the wisdom of your summons wanting."</p><p>As you struggle to stand, Elidibus – Ancient, yet still Ascian - turns his attention from you to the boy frozen nearby.  Unukalhai's fumbles for words, stature bearing a mixture of emotion unreadable in the dark.</p><p>"I think your master needs a nice warm welcome back." You urge Unukalhai forward with a smile he cannot see.</p><p>Shy and cautious, he gently lifts Elidibus' hand in his, as if testing the reality of his presence. Satisfied the Ascian is indeed returned, he takes hold more completely.</p><p>Elidibus does not pull away, a response differing from the Elidibus you knew.  </p><p>No matter the circumstances of his last parting, <em>this</em> Elidibus is distinct: softer and not so wholly consumed.  He remains bound by duty, yes, but a sadness encompasses his being not entirely unlike Emet-Selch's – a change is not wholly unanticipated.  He protects their memories, now, cherishing them, holding them tightly until the time comes.  And his -your- colleagues, in turn, protect him, granting him a part of who he once was - who he lost – <em>discarded</em>.</p><p>With a gentleness he might well have called unbecoming before, Elidibus tugs little Unukalhai close.  Perhaps it is the first time - you know not - but the boy's soft squeak of surprise at the hug is worth the quiver in your balance, the gentle pats of his head as comforting to you as they are him.</p><p>Holding found family, Elidibus looks to the sky - the stars and the colorful banners adorning the Crystarium - not even full concealment by mask and robes can hide the weight lifting from his shoulders as he is overcome with wistful nostalgia that he makes no attempt to conceal.</p><p>"That the world could be so vibrant, even - "</p><p>His softness blooms tears you'd sooner not reveal and with strength you didn't know you had remaining, you, too, close the distance, embracing him and Unukalhai both.</p><p>"Why would you do something so foolish?  You have your duty and I -" He whispers, low rumble as soft as familiar as you've always known.</p><p>"- made a promise." With a whisper back, you nuzzle closely.</p><p>". . .That I did."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. An Ephemeral Moment</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The Warrior of Light helps the First get back on its feet.<br/>or<br/>WoL and Elidibus go farming.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The threat of light remains.</p>
<p>Only in the most literal sense has the danger of Sin Eaters and perpetual day passed; in truth, much of the flood’s effects yet remain, persisting as a reminder of a century’s struggle and even though reconstruction begins in earnest, it will yet take generations for the First to truly recover.</p>
<p>Long term imbalance has resulted in highly umbrally aspected soils; the Crystarium overcame nature’s limitations by specifically tending to limited, controlled plots and selectively preserving plants for nutritional and medicinal value as necessary, but in the wilds, only the hardiest plants can withstand perpetual light, leaving the average Kholusian reliant on meat and whatever scraps yet remain in Eulmore.</p>
<p>Theirs is a dilemma that, in truth, has little to do with you - the Warrior of Darkness’ duty is done, the star must rely on its own inhabitants for restoration. So far most efforts prove successful; the citizens and new adventurers within the Crystarium and Eulmore are sufficient, tending the lands and clearing what beasts they find, rebuilding homes and populating areas once thought lost forever.</p>
<p>But regardless of their independence, you are not wont to turn your back on those in need.</p>
<p>The soils at your feet are hard and compact, dry even with Kholusia's rains; rather than be absorbed, the majority of freshwater instead runs into the sea, leaving flora and fauna both suffering from perpetual drought. To counteract the growing - or lack thereof - issue, a simple but effective strategy devised by the Crystarium's researchers was announced: till the soil and offer it a hardy injection of foreign aether, that the land’s balance might be restored and growth eased through the absorption of nutrient-rich fertilizers.  If successful, life of all shapes, sizes, and roles might reclaim their places once more.</p>
<p>In theory, the plan is sound, but proves challenging in practice for even the strongest mages of the First; prolonged channeling and focus – paired with repeated touch of umbral aether upon the soul – are arduous tasks for the average scholar or farmer and so it is onto you that the majority of work falls.</p>
<p>Dizzying and repetitive, the cycle is mindless yet satisfying; each seed placed and covered is a promise of new life and that is enough to keep motivation running strong.  </p>
<p>Patting soil that might only be described as ‘fluffy,' you stand, raising your arms over your head in a long, heavy stretch.  Unused to the motions of hard farming, your back and thighs burn from prolonged exertion, rebelling against further work - but denial is easy enough when your reserves yet remain steady.</p>
<p>You’ve only a few more hours before the field is prepared, that it might settle with the upcoming rains.</p>
<p>“Is your work complete?  Unukalhai fusses over you.”  With a start, you turn, heart’s beat jumping even though the intruder’s voice is immediately recognizable.</p>
<p>“When did you get here?”</p>
<p>Elidibus offers no answer; resting under the shadowy boughs of a tree nearby tree, his lips tease a smile that promises much and naught at all; though he does not criticize, he also keeps his peace, for good and ill - a dissatisfying development, in truth, when honesty has driven the progression of your relationship after the climactic confrontation within the Crystal Tower.  </p>
<p>Perhaps your expectations are unfair; there is still much for Elidibus to come to terms with. His struggles - existential or otherwise - disagree with the intensity of his passion, and his inability and unwillingness to act frequently come into conflict with his desire to pursue his goals.</p>
<p>His duty - his family, his people, the star itself - drives him, but Elidibus no longer denies that change besets him. With understanding and, yes, even memory, comes the weight of responsibility and the shift in his perceptions can no longer be brushed aside as insignificant.</p>
<p>In truth, the man now known only as Elidibus no longer knows himself.</p>
<p>But that is neither here nor there; Elidibus will share his troubles when he deems it necessary, you needn’t press. For now, he will watch and in doing so will witness the passion with which you - and the people you love - care for the star, just as they always have.</p>
<p>Just as he once did. </p>
<p>With a shrug, you return to your work. A few paces away from the next plot, you once more lean over, beginning the tilling process anew; back all but creaking and muscles rebelling, you grunt.</p>
<p>“Do not push yourself.”</p>
<p>Your pain must be obvious if even Elidibus scolds and you cannot but offer a sideye’s raised brow.</p>
<p><em> That</em>. From <em> him</em>.</p>
<p>“I’m fine. I’ve still half a day of light to work wi-” An easy dismissal, but as you kneel, your head spins - not with the all-encompassing vertigo of an Echo vision, but with the heavy blur of what is known in Eorzea as aether sickness. -“with.”</p>
<p>You correct before Elidibus might notice just how deeply vulnerable the process leaves you.  Favorably, he prods no further and steadying yourself, you push the Emissary’s observation from your mind before returning to work.</p>
<p>Dig-dig, dig-dig -<br/>Spill-mix, spill-fill -<br/>Pat pat.</p>
<p>As the weave of determined focus returns and you discard your body’s stubborn aches, a tune comes to mind, matching the repetitive nature of your motions. It’s not a song, exactly, no more than any other hum during cleaning or work is, yet it flows naturally with habitual actions and you repeat it with each cycle. No matter how your body might burn, the warmth of song spills into your breast, resulting in a slight, persistent smile as it drives you from one plot to the next.</p>
<p>"That song. . ." </p>
<p>In your focus, you’d not heeded Elidibus’ approach; hard lines crease his forehead, revealing his severity, as he works to place <em> something </em>.</p>
<p>"What of it?" You know that look; Elidibus’ struggle with memory are all but daily.  With each grimace, your heart aches and you rise to meet him - a decision that proves unfortunate as soon as it’s enacted and your body stubbornly denies further command, sending you tumbling into your musing partner.</p>
<p>". . ." Elidibus catches you with ease and naught but a light grunt, but though he holds you, his gaze is locked on a world far away, struggling with something far beyond any mortal’s sight. </p>
<p>"Does your memory trouble you again?" You grasp his hand gently.</p>
<p>There is no easy, complete fix to his ailment, no clean fantastical conclusion where Elidibus might regain his whole self. What's gone is gone, he cannot but rebuild his base personality entirely from the memories of others stored within the crystals -</p>
<p>But he <em> can </em> start anew, as a mortal might.</p>
<p>As the First does.</p>
<p>“No.” At last breaking free from the prison of memory Elidibus answers, traces of a smile gracing his lips as he extracts himself that you might regain your footing.</p>
<p>“That’s -” The star spins, each motion sending the ground roiling, once pleasantly distant chirps mutating into deep screeches, each rumble of Elidibus’ breaths a roar. “That’s -”</p>
<p>Word and sense fail as the star churns, blues and browns shifting to golds and whites before slipping together into utter darkness.</p>
<hr/>
<p>What exactly beckons you back to the world of the living is impossible to know, for neither dull, throbbing ache nor sharp pain awakens you - nay, it is <em> everything </em> that disturbs your rest.</p>
<p>Even combat practiced, days of repetitive farming and elemental reaspecting at last take their toll, persistence resulting in torn muscles and - worse - a light-induced nausea you know far too intimately, umbral aspected aether temporarily unbalancing your core. It will be some days until internal equilibrium rights itself, the queasiness in your stomach settling and weighty stillness in your movements fading, but until then you’re all but a lazing chocobo.</p>
<p>The Kholusian sky shifts from blue to gold as the sun deepens across the horizon, your slowly returning vision darkened by sparse leaves dotting a thick branch above your head. The tree explains the harsh pressure at your back, but not the warmth -</p>
<p>At your side, Elidibus stirs.</p>
<p>Having fallen into a far briefer slumber than yours, Elidibus’ eyes flutter in quick blinks, taking in his surroundings without surprise.</p>
<p>It is he who ascertained your comfort, whether or not he saw purpose in your actions, and burn though the rest of your muscles may, a smile only for Elidibus blossoms easily.</p>
<p>With trembling stubbornness you push yourself from the tree - from Elidibus - using the shovel laid out at your side to aid to your balance.</p>
<p>“Where are you going?” Light amusement dances through his slow, sleepy query, his tone containing a slight condescension more akin to your first meeting than anything more recent. </p>
<p>"I must return to work." You frown.</p>
<p>“There’s no need."</p>
<p>With ease, he tugs at your free arm and, heeding his strength more than yours, muscles already struggling to obey succumb far too easily and you fall into his warmth, shovel cast away without thought. Jaw clenching, you make no effort to hide your glare, preparing for a stern reprimand.</p>
<p>Elidibus pays your irritation no mind, instead turning his gaze out, looking onto the . . .</p>
<p>     - Field, which has been completely tilled. It is clear from the weight - or lack thereof - of aether in the air, that even the remaining balance is restored, the lands wholly prepared for the upcoming rains.</p>
<p>
  <em> Elidibus did this. </em>
</p>
<p>With his denser soul and greater reserves of internal aether, an Unsundered is far more suitable than any Source’s inhabitant at wide scale aether rebalancing - yet such actions are meaningless to him. The current world is fleeting, meaningless - a simple part of a greater broken whole - </p>
<p>But <em> that </em> promise is not so meaningless: it is a force that drove him even as he lost aught else.</p>
<p>Words escape you - and the Emissary shows disinclination for either discussion or explanation. </p>
<p>You needn’t any.</p>
<p>With a long sigh, you lean back into him, letting weary muscles rest - even if just for an ephemeral moment.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Life</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The Ancient One has a new friend.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Against the moist soil and fresh leaves its footfall consists of muffled and nigh inaudible pats, the Ancient One's presence revealed only by the slight tug at a loose sleeve long since fallen from Elidibus' grasp.</p>
<p>"What do you have there?" Slurred words heed your command only after repeated blinks clear blurred vision.</p>
<p>In the dim aura of Unukalhai's lamp - did he work to such a late hour or just awaken?  He must better care for his health, especially with the instability of incomplete flesh - and through the earliest tinges of morning sunlight peeking twixt the canopy, what the Ancient One fusses over becomes clear: <em>something</em> rests upon the doll's tiny arm, extended out in offering.</p>
<p>
  <em>White.</em>
</p>
<p>A butterfly's soft wings unfurl, newly expanded and flapping lightly, drying themselves in preparation for first flight.</p>
<p>Simple and small, lonely and yet unbroken, new life returns to a broken world.</p>
<p>Crystals of umbral light must have frozen its chrysalis in time, its growth and development halted as if sealed away, rousing only as the star's balance returns.</p>
<p>Perhaps it is alone, the last of its kind, or perhaps there are yet others for it to discover, that the forest might once more dance under a flurry of wingbeats.  Though its future is uncertain, it yet persists, as do all creatures.</p>
<p>The Ancient One does not understand the importance of its discovery - <em>cannot </em>- its simple mind observing the strange entity on its arm with awe and an unnatural stillness only a creation might muster, until at long last, as streams of light course as might molten rivers through the leaves to douse its wings, the butterfly leaps.  The doll's featureless gaze follows high as it might, bidding farewell to its new friend as it soars into the unknown, preparing, as did its predecessors, to pass nectar from plant to plant, its unique skills once more a part of nature's cycle.</p>
<p>At your side, Elidibus stirs.</p>
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<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Dance of the Sun and Moon</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Unukalhai questions his guardians' strange behavior.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>From the sea it sweeps, twixt mountain and tree, fluttering leaf and seed alike, tasting all - holding none.</p><p>Wind and Wanderer are not so different.</p><p>Tugging at attire and smile equally, the brisk breeze chills even at sun’s height; bird songs, more lark than loon, echo over the nearby creek and the leaves crinkle under your boots.</p><p>There is yet energy in your step, your heart yet to beat strongly, the sights of the city still fresh - </p><p>A new journey begins.</p><p><em> No, that’s not </em> -</p><p>Lark’s call harshens, its pitch deepening as it mutates into comprehensible words -</p><p>
  <em> A name. It calls your name. </em>
</p><p>The wind turns from tug to persistent shake, but no quake roils the land at your feet -</p><p>Your eyes open.</p><p>
  <em> It’s warm. </em>
</p><p>Previously settled in the deep shade, time’s passage brings the rock you chose to rest against under the brunt of the midday’s sun, its glare seemingly - and fittingly - focused on the amber stone resting in your palm.</p><p>“Welcome back to the waking world.”</p><p>Blinded by awakening’s haze, an intrusive voice has you instinctively clenching your fist, shielding the precious crystal. Only belatedly do you process a light undercurrent of tease.</p><p>The white-haired boy looks down at you as the wind tugs at his robes, lake lapping gently at his back - the pleasant sound and sensation that accompanies all travels. He must have been the one who shook you out of the memory.</p><p>Without thought, you smile, the boy’s presence rousing warmth in your chest.</p><p>His name, <em> his name </em> -</p><p>The crystal’s images are stronger this time, a response quite unlike any previous. So near to your heart, they resonate deeply and you cannot but feel comforted, even accounting for the brief distortion of past and present.</p><p>A few blinks and a brief scan of your surroundings clear the hazy fog that is memory, that truth and understanding might settle.</p><p>It is not autumn.<br/>     The air is warm, not chill.<br/>          The Empty - or not so much, any longer - is far from any city.</p><p>“My apologies. How long have you been there, Unukalhai?”</p><p>If he notices your confusion, he makes no mention of it, instead smiling gently, keeping his peace with an air of elusiveness that might well come from Elidibus. Of all the behaviors to habitually emulate -</p><p>“Not long.”  Pushing yourself from your seat, you shelter in the shadows next to your new companion as he continues.  “You seemed lost in thought.  Might I ask what holds your attention?”</p><p><em> What </em>, indeed. How might you put into words that it is simply the nostalgia of a cold wind, of the scent of moist soil after a rain, of the crackle of leaves under light footfall that trap you?  An experience no different than any you might encounter daily, in truth, and yet. . .</p><p>This time, your hesitation is noted, or perhaps Unukalhai’s worry gets the better of him, and he motions to your hand, where the crystal of Azem sleeps safely. </p><p>“Does it have to do with that stone?  I’ve ne’er seen one of the like before.” </p><p>A deep inhale accompanies the tightening of your fist; it takes a moment for irrationality to abate and your grasp loosens, once more revealing familiar amber to the shining sun. </p><p>“I suppose.  It’s naught to trouble yourself over.  This was a. . .” Any description you might give seems so shallow under the weight of truth.  “gift - from a friend long lost.”</p><p>Yours is an evasive answer worthy of Elidibus and Unukalhai recognizes it as such, standing firm -</p><p>Where <em> did </em> he get this stubbornness from?</p><p>With a warm sigh, you relent.</p><p>“It’s a reminder of who I am.”</p><p>Who you were - who you are - who you will inevitably become -</p><p>You may not be the same Azem that Hades once knew, but nonetheless the crystal is a fundamental representation of the continuous cycle your soul yet remains locked within. </p><p>That Emet kept it a secret from his friends and colleagues means its existence is not wholly your tale to tell and you would respect his wishes.</p><p>“It is precious to you.” At last Unukalhai smiles, satisfied with your answer.</p><p>“More than words can express.”</p><p> </p><hr/><p>Were Unukalhai to take only external impressions into account, he would quickly conclude that his master and the ‘Warrior of Darkness’ differ as deeply as sun and moon.  But Unukalhai is not deceived by his master’s distant behavior as are many others; buried deeply in his actions is a love for the star above even himself and, in that, Unukalhai’s guardians are so very alike. </p><p>Under the moon’s ethereal glow, his master rests, though he is far from sleep; just as Unukalhai came upon the wayward scion mere hours before, in Elidibus’ hands lies a crystal of curiously similar design but bearing drastically different color and marking.</p><p>Colorless and plain, it is fittingly akin to Unukalhai’s old robes.</p><p>But where the Scion looked peaceful, if lost, his master’s face contorts. Be it in grimace, tears, or both, Unukalhai cannot define, but he cannot stand to see his master suffer.  Kneeling at his side,  Unukalhai places a hand on his shoulder.</p><p>“Master.”</p><p>Elidibus jolts to wakefulness, rousing from his dream far more easily than the Scion during his earlier encounter.  Lacking prolonged muddled haze, Elidibus’ perception clears quickly, the brief visage of vulnerability immediately concealed in a mask of neutrality that Unukalhai knows far too well.  </p><p>“Is aught amiss?” Elidibus is concise and professional and, if not for a gentleness reserved for few, Unukalhai might think him uncaring. </p><p>Many such assumptions about his master - about the Ascians - have been put into question of late, but through softness he reveals only to his family, Unukalhai has learned Elidibus is quite the opposite: he cares too much, sealing away emotion that he might do his distasteful duty unhindered.</p><p>It is only recently that Elidibus dares accept his softer depths.</p><p>“No, not at all. It’s just that -” Unukalhai knows not the details of his master and the Scion’s encounters on the First, save rumors and results, but whatever happened changed them both. A Scion who is more than Scion and Elidibus, who is commonly - <em> unthinkably </em>- lost in thought rather than favoring action. “You’ve been so focused on that crystal of late.”</p><p>“You would know what it is.” Unukalhai swallows; the so-called ‘Warrior of Darkness’ might play along, but his master chooses the most direct course. There is no point in denial and Unukalhai nods. </p><p>“This is a crystal of memory.” Elidibus answers dutifully, as if reading from a long-memorized text. He offers it freely, that Unukalhai might study the pattern of adorning its surface; though seemingly emulating the stars, it does not appear to display any recognizable constellation.</p><p>Without prompt, he continues, voice low and quiet.  “On that day, I lost - and until then, I never placed value in just <em> how much </em>.”  Elidibus closes his hand around the crystal and it disappears into the aether, stored in safety where only he might find it.  “Knowing now the burden I asked my colleague to carry alone - that Azem was then tasked with - “</p><p>It is not unusual for Elidibus to speak on subjects that make little sense, but though the content of his words remain mystery, the depths of his regret are understood beyond language.</p><p>“It’s a mistake I’ll not make again.” Elidibus’ softness turns into derision.</p><p>His master <em> failed </em>.</p><p>Perhaps that fact should have been clear by the Scions’ successful return to the Source - that for some time Unukalhai believed Elidibus to be gone forever. Unukalhai had been so excited by his return, by the prospect that their family might once more be whole, that he had not considered the change that might have come upon his master after the strength of his convictions proved wanting.</p><p>The Emissary, so unflappable and confident, reduced to a state of confusion and regret - </p><p>Unukalhai turns away. Though his master parts with the information freely, Unukalhai should not have been so thoughtless to let his curiosity get the better of him.  With what little tact remains for him to muster, he changes the subject</p><p>“And the crystal owned by the Warrior of Darkness is the same?”</p><p>“The Warrior has been looking into it?”</p><p>An odd turn of phrase, but if the crystals summon memory, then losing oneself inside must be like settling into a daydream. Unukalhai nods.</p><p>“I see.” He falls into silence, turning his gaze high - beyond the moon and into the stars themselves.</p><p>Elidibus, even changed in many ways, yet remains the same:</p><p>On topics of greatest import, he does not answer.</p><p> </p><hr/><p>The Empty sleeps.</p><p>At such a great distance from any city or town, the night you struggled to restore shrouds the land; few lights slip through the curtain: the moon and stars - the uneven lanterns surrounding your small camp - and all seem particularly foreign when doused in utter darkness.</p><p>After light but firm prodding, the willful Unukalhai at last has returned to his tent. Though his lantern is dimmed, his hunched form reveals that he yet tends to his records and measurements, analyzing elemental aspects and changes within the aether as you venture through Eden’s newly revitalized lands, experiencing variations in weather, elevation, and climate for further data points.</p><p>Unukalhai works diligently - nigh relentlessly - to restore his star, but at times you must simply put your foot down. He needs rest.</p><p>As do you, but you’ve yet one more duty to attend.</p><p>Elidibus has not moved since your return to camp; showing little interest in research or exploration, his role is simply in observation, be it your or Unukalhai, whenever the whim strikes him.  There’s little need to worry for him; he is unsundered: his sense of time, space, and needs are far different from your own, yet whether or not it is necessary, you cannot but fuss on his behalf and, leaving the security of the camp’s gentle glow, you delve into the shadows where Elidibus awaits.</p><p>Though stray hairs slip from their place, the Emissary is otherwise untouched by the elements - by the very star itself - and your presence proves equally ineffectual.  Foreign footfall might well be a light breeze for all the care he heeds it and the faint glow in his hand is evidence enough as to why: </p><p>The crystal.</p><p>It had taken Elidibus some time after his summoning to overcome his hesitation in its use but having done so, he’s often found lost in memory, desperately grasping at a past that eluded him for so long.  You’d sooner not disturb him, but you’ll be moving camp on the morrow and he’ll need his strength. With a smile, you place your hand atop his.</p><p>Though the crystal’s energies do not transfer from touch, warm vibrations tingle the aether itself, slipping through his fingers and into yours. His is a fleeting and familiar warmth, more akin to scent than essence; elusive to him as much as you, the magicks of creation slink from his control, only dissipating into nothingness as the Emissary distances himself from memory. </p><p>A few blinks and he refocuses - the transition seems so much easier for him than it is for you - greeting you with a low whisper.</p><p>You return the gesture in kind, hand still on his.  “The crystal is so precious to you now.” </p><p>You broach the topic cautiously; many are the subjects you are unprepared or unable to discuss, yet Elidibus does not flinch away - nor does he make any effort to conceal his actions.  He has at last, it seems, decided he is ready. </p><p>“It is all that remains of the individual now known only as Elidibus.” With a long breath, Elidibus reveals his derision. He has been preparing for this conversation - but how - <em> why </em> - “With such crumbled foundations, bearing it is but masquerade”</p><p>Yet no matter how prepared he believes himself, the Emissary cannot stymie wells of lament; its weight lingers and looms, sinking deeply into his core like a taint.  As much a part of Elidibus as his duty, the loneliness of responsibility, lost with time like aught else, returns at full weight.</p><p>Learning who he was - re-experiencing what was lost - taking in old memories as new at your side - has not been a trial easily overcome.</p><p>Everyone has their own reason to journey: riches; knowledge; to help others; to find themselves; and Elidibus yet has so much to search for.  The Emissary’s new life is much akin to the journey of a mortal - to grow from nothing, blossoming through new experiences and the knowledge imparted to him. </p><p>Wisely, you hold your peace on <em> that </em> analysis.</p><p>“Or perhaps a new man has been raised to the seat.” The path to the future is more akin to a journey through the shroud’s depths - harsh and unwelcoming, each step a struggle into the unknown - rather than a dance across open La Noscean fields. </p><p>It will not be exciting, but together, you might ease the transition from one life to the next.</p><p>Removing your hand from his for a brief moment, you shuffle through your dearest belongings, retrieving your precious crystal from its place. Elidibus opens his hand freely to you and the crystals clink together softly; though unrelated in their creation, what they represent matches in perfect harmony.</p><p>“This is a path we walk together.”</p><p>“So it is.” For but a moment the Emissary indulges, revealing much in few words. You know better than to push; progress is progress, even if ‘tis but in single steps.</p><p>“Do you remember a dance amongst the stars?” You remove your hand, returning the sun’s stone to its sanctuary.</p><p>“What is this about?” Elidibus mimics the motion; stone secured, his attention focuses wholly on you.</p><p>“Just answer.”</p><p>“. . .no.”</p><p>“Nor do I.” Confusion turns to irritation and Elidibus frowns, mistakenly assuming you tease.</p><p>Or perhaps <em> not </em> mistakenly - but are not so crass and perhaps he should think better of you. Regardless, the topic is a sensitive one and you relent before further assumptions are made. </p><p>“But we might yet.”</p><p>Emet-Selch’s creation is unlike the others; you’ve no guide in its use - no way to process its contents as more than a slow, fickle awakening of the soul.  What visions you know from it are etched deeply into the essence that makes up <em> Azem </em> , often only fully manifesting as nostalgia or within dreams, settling unconsciously until unintentionally summoned - <em> remembered </em>- as your own.</p><p><em> That </em> night was one such dream.</p><p>The rain had cleared by nightfall; stars shimmering in the sky; in the distance, the city’s golden lights flickered through otherwise perpetual darkness. At the cliff’s edge, residual puddles and dewdrops reflected the lights in a sea of black and gold overwhelming nigh every sense.</p><p><em> You </em> do not know this scene -<br/><em> You </em> have never experienced it, any explanation is more akin to a favored, familiar tale -<br/>But just as with the autumn venture, the cold wind dances, the puddles splash, the lights swim through water, air, and sky -<br/>And the warmth of your partner is yet beside you -</p><p>“Come, the night is still young.”</p><p>The stars are high -<br/>The lake is still -<br/>The rain is ceased - </p><p>There is no time more fitting for the sun and moon to dance. </p>
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